


Case 197: The Trifling Matter Of Mr. Mortimer Maberley (1902)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [252]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Hotels, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Military, Pie, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 12:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17960831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Sherlock is Commanded to take a case by an army wife, and Watson is not at all jealous at two of the gentlemen involved in it no matter how young, handsome and well-endowed they are. No, absolutely not jealous at all.Shut up!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



_[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D.]_

This was one of my friend's more amusing cases, totally free from death, destruction, murder, killing or even political intrigue. But not from trifle. And my friend's sole reference to it was so excruciatingly unfunny that... well, it was fortunate that he was a great detective because he was certainly no comedian!

My loyal readers will remember that Sherlock's half-brother Mr. Campbell Kerr had been the owner of a whole empire of molly-houses before he had retired with his lover Mr. Alan Buxted to the countryside. They only rarely visited London, their business having been taken on by Mr. Sweyn Godfreyson and, less happily for me, the irksome Mr. Laurence Trevelyan. Sherlock always seemed far too amused every time the Cornish ex-fisherman came round and then leered at my friend in that unpleasant way of his, and afterwards I would sometimes take my love to our room and very forcibly restate my claim on his delicious body. Mr. Trevelyan's visits were far too frequent in my opinion even if Sherlock always seemed to enjoy the way in which I abandoned my usual reserve and 'let rip' every time as a result.

He surely could not have been encouraging.... no, even he would not have been that devious.

Although I was now down to a mere handful of patients – some friends and old patients who I suspected seemed to want my services more to say they had been treated by a famous author rather than for my medical skills – I did a lot of work for Mr. Godfreyson's boys and it was two of them who brought this curious little case to our attention. Januariusz (Jan) and Jerzy Herak came from Poland and not that far from where Sherlock's father grew up. They were I think third cousins although they looked like identical twins, the only real difference between them being that Jan had brown eyes and Jerzy hazel ones. They certainly looked nothing like any of Sherlock's family; both were lantern-jawed young fellows of about twenty-five years of age and handsome in the sort of way that suggested they would happily murder someone and not bat an eyelid. And.... I really needed to change my reading material.

Some bastard of a consulting detective says that I also have to include their appellation in Mr. Godfreyson's catalogue, namely 'Extra-Large Polish Sausage, Double Helping. I had treated both of them in my time – neither liked being away from the other I had found – and could attest that yes, they were moderately well-endowed.

'Someone' is giving me a look again. All right, they could justifiably have added a 'Triple' before that 'Extra'! And no, I was not the least bit jealous. So there!

֍

In our rooms at Baker Street Jan and Jerzy looked like regular Edwardian gentlemen, save for the fact they were sat rather closer to each other than might have been considered socially acceptable. I had had to treat them both for minor cuts and abrasions a couple of months back when a gang of five youths had jumped them coming out of the molly-house. I had rather more reluctantly also treated the youths, maybe a tad roughly, who had been in far worse shape.

"As you know, sirs", Jan said, "we had been looking to secure a place of our own as our rooms are small and cramped. We both have jobs now and we found a place in Paddington not far from here. It was a stretch but we thought that we might just manage it."

"I know Jerzy has a job waiting at the 'St. George' off Shaftesbury Avenue", Sherlock said, "but what did you find, Jan?"

"Jerzy was able to put my name forward for a job in the kitchens", Jan said. "That is where we have come up against..... a problem."

"What sort of problem?" I asked.

"Do you know anything about the Maberley family?" Jan asked.

All three looked at me for some reason. I scowled at them.

"The literary reviews are right below the social pages in the _'Times'”_ I said not at all sniffily. 

Did I also mention that our visitors seemed to be able to mimic _someone's_ annoying judgemental silences? I scowled again.

"One of the leading military families on the social scene", I said. "Colonel Sir Archibald is in his fifties now and has six children, five boys and a girl. The first four are all in the Army in some capacity or other."

They were still looking at me. 

"Two captains, a major and a lieutenant", I sighed. 

"The _Bradshaw_ of the social scene!" teased someone who was not getting laid any time soon, or doing any laying for that matter. "What is your connection to this parade of paladins, gentlemen?"

The two young fellows exchanged a look.

"It is all a bit unfortunate, really", Jerzy said at last. "As you say doctor the four older Maberleys are all in the Army, and all doing well. The youngest boy, Mortimer, is just about to turn twenty-one and.... he is cut from a rather different cloth. They are all strapping blond military giants; he...."

He stopped and looked at his friend.

"One of the many unkind things that have been said about poor Merry is that he must be the milkman's offspring", Jan said. "He looks very much the runt of the litter I am afraid, and he has what we call back home.... I think it can only be translated as a 'pick-on-able face'. He started helping out in the kitchens a few months ago and some of the other staff tried to bully him. We soon put a stop to that."

"Merry is...." his cousin began, then stopped. He thought for a moment before continuing. "Not one of us here, at least not yet. He craves affection and especially touch, and is happiest when one or both of us just hold him. But you see....."

He stopped and looked appealingly at Sherlock who nodded understandingly.

"You implied without actually saying to the other staff that one or both of you were sleeping with him, in order to persuade them to back away", he said. "There have not been any problems since?"

Jerzy Herak smiled sourly.

"The chief waiter was the only one who tried it on when he thought we were not looking", he said. "Sweyn loaned me four of the boys to waylay him one evening. He got the message."

I had little doubt as to what form that 'message' had taken.

"The thing is", Jan said, "we want Merry to move in with us. He is not happy at home and we could keep an eye on him better. But he is terrified."

"Of his father the colonel, I suppose", Sherlock said. 

I may have imagined it but there seemed to be a slight pause before either gentleman spoke again.

"His father is arranging a post in the Army for him", Jerzy said, shuddering. "We both fear that it will be the end of the poor boy."

"I am surprised that his father allowed him to work in the kitchens in the first place", I said.

"That is yet another problem", Jan said. "He is officially at a college down the road and works at the hotel only for the experience. They had him for an hour a week to start with, but it turned out that he is a wizard with food. He can even cook up some meals from home that I thought I would never taste again! They want him to work full-time and I can envisage his father being carried off to hospital when he finds out. He thinks that it is just some part of his son's college work."

Sherlock thought for a moment.

"I think", he said eventually, "that we may need to approach this case from a rather unusual angle. I shall have to make a few inquiries, but I see one possibility that may just work. I shall have news for you fairly soon, perhaps even by the end of the week."

They looked at him in surprise. I knew how they felt.

֍

"What can you tell me about the colonel and his home life?" Sherlock asked later once our guests had gone. 

"Young Mortimer Maberley is the only one left now", I said. "The sister was the oldest and she is married with a family, as are her four Army brothers. I wonder if that might be part of the problem."

"What do mean?" he asked. He was lunging on the couch next to me, his impossible hair pushing against my side. I ruffled it in the knowledge that no power on earth could make it a bigger mess, and he smiled at me.

"Lady Maberley had ten children", I said. "The daughter, four sons, four more children that died young and finally Mortimer, or Merry as the boys call him. I doubt that he can have had much of a merry life with his father expecting him to follow in his brothers' footsteps and his mother perhaps overdoing it on the care front when all her other boys were gone. He must have been alone for nearly a decade after his last brother married and moved out."

"What the boys said about his needing touch", Sherlock said. "Is that common?"

"Humans need reassurance", I said ruffling his hair once more. "Even if as they say the young fellow is not 'one of us' he would feel happy that someone wants him, especially if he is as unprepossessing in appearance as they say. I doubt very much that his father is the caring sort."

"What about the mother?" Sherlock asked. I frowned.

"I do not know her", I said, "but there is one curious thing."

"What is it?" he asked.

"When the newspaper reports that a husband and wife attended a social event they always lead with the husband's name", I said, "unless there is a good reason not to. But the Maberleys are always 'Lady Maberley and her husband Colonel Sir Maberley'. It seems odd that that are the only people so treated."

"You had better read the social pages closely over the next few days", he grinned, "just to see if they keep this up!"

I glared at him. A gentleman was entitled to have interests, damnation!

֍


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later we had a call. Lady Maberley and Colonel Sir Archibald Hugh Stewart Maberley wished to consult Sherlock and written on their card was that the matter was of The Most Immediate And Gravest Importance. Sherlock asked the maid to show our visitors up and we duly received them.

The colonel was as I said in his mid- to late-fifties and could surely have earned himself some extra pennies in his latter years by posing for newspapers as the archetypal Grumpy Old Soldier. He had blond hair turned nearly all white, a moustache and a scowl that made it quite clear he was not happy at something. His wife was about five years his junior, a large and rather fearsome woman whose name, rather unusually, had been on her husband's card. Lady Euphemia Maberley was one of those ladies whose look alone could probably have caused a whole tribe of Zulu warriors to seriously reconsider their life choices, and I did not doubt from the way she sailed into the room as to precisely who wore the trousers in this marriage. She looked sharply at my friend (all right, there _was_ a simper!) before she spoke.

“Archie is worried about Mortimer”, she declared.

Sherlock smiled benignly at her. Sure enough, that elicited another simper. I was going to have to bar all female clients (and all Cornish ex-fishermen) if this kept up.

“Mortimer is your youngest son”, he said. "What seems to be the matter with him, pray?"

The colonel opened his mouth to say something but his wife got there first. I had the impression that this was the usual state of affairs.

“Archie has acquired the frankly impossible notion that Mortimer will Let The Family Down in some way”, Lady Maberley said firmly. _“Quite_ impossible as I would never allow it. Although I must admit that I am a little concerned at this recent Personage at his hotel place or whatever, because Mortimer believes that they do not like him for some reason."

Sherlock nodded.

"I see", he said. "Where does your son work, may I ask?"

Again the colonel was too slow. He really should have spared himself the effort.

"Mortimer's college – Mark Square, one of the best of course - secured him some experience arrangement at the _'St. George'_ ", she said. "Lord alone knows why but that is modern education for you. But he says that this new Personage who eats there is looking at him in the wrong way!"

"My boy...." the colonel began.

She turned and looked at him. He gulped and stopped dead. I doubted that in his long military career he had ever seen anything quite so frightening.

"This Personage is _looking_ at my son", Lady Maberley said. "I require you to put a stop to it!"

Sherlock frowned.

"It is rather difficult to stop someone from just _looking_ at someone, my lady", he said. "You son feels threatened by this... Personage?"

She sniffed disdainfully.

"Mortimer is of an age where he wishes to move out", she said, frowning as if such a thing greatly displeased her. He wishes to share with two... two....."

I leaned forward, waiting to see what horror she was about to set on us.

“With two _foreigners!”_ , she shuddered delicately. _“Such_ a tragedy. But the dear boy is very set in his ideas and quite determined to make his own way in life. And he does not like the way that this Personage is staring at him."

"He has told you that?" Sherlock asked.

"Mortimer never tells anyone anything!" she snorted. "I got it from Lady Bagley who dines there and saw the whole thing, and Mrs. Scarsdale confirmed it just as she said. Who knows what terrible thing this Personage may do to my little darling if he is not stopped!"

"I shall need a description of this Personage", Sherlock said. "In fact, no. I think that this matter needs to be stopped here and now. We shall go to the hotel to confront this fellow and put an end to his nefarious dealings."

The lady looked surprised at her swift success.

"You will?" she asked.

"Pra, what times did these horrible events take place?" Sherlock asked.

"Always dinner, I was told", she answered.

"Then we shall meet you there for dinner this evening", Sherlock said firmly. "I believe that they start serving at five o'clock so we shall arrive exactly then, and we shall be able to stop this blackguard in his tracks!"

֍

I waited until our visitors had gone before challenging him.

"All right", I said firmly. "What are you up to?"

"Would you settle for some distraction sex?" he asked hopefully. 

I shook my head at him, though I hoped I might still get the sex later anyway. He chuckled.

"The 'Personage' so terrifying poor Mr. Mortimer Maberley is an actor friend of mine", he said. "He has made sure to convey to a whole number of people who dine at the hotel that he is interested in his target for some dark and deadly reason, and of course the news filtered through to the young man's parents as I knew it would. Mr. Cardean is an excellent amateur actor; he can do the cloaked villain amazingly well when one considers that he is actually a sexton at St. Clement's Church."

"So there is no threat to the fellow then?" I asked. He shook his head.

"But his parents think that there is", he said. "And the name of the hotel is quite appropriate really."

"Why?"

"Because having created the dragon, they are going to be there when _'St. George'_ , also known as Jerzy, rides to the rescue!"

I looked at him in confusion. No change there then.

֍

At least I still got the distraction sex, although as we were going out in a few hours Sherlock insisted on being gentle with me and ending our session with a whole lot of that manly embracing thing he likes. And which I was most generously prepared to tolerate.

Shut up!

֍

The _'St. George'_ was what I would have termed among London's middle-ranking hotels. I knew that the similar _'Ventura'_ a little way further down the road had a reputation for having more than its share of military guests so perhaps young Mortimer Maberley had hoped to avoid the true extent of his work getting back to his parents. They doubtless still thought that he did an hour or so here and then went back to his studies and did not, as Jan and Jerzy had told us he did, spend all of his spare time there.

Colonel and Lady Maberley arrived shortly after us and were of course keen to discover what Holmes had found out. We all sat down and ordered; unhappily the dessert of the day was trifle, Lady Maberley's favourite, and worse there was no pie on offer. This place really could do better.

Barely a minute later Sherlock leaned over to Lady Maberley who was again in mid-simper. Honestly!

"Is that the Personage?" he whispered.

She looked across to where a dark-suited fellow was sat alone, his attention very clearly on the door leading out to the kitchen. 

"I am sure that that is him!" she said far too loudly. "In black, just like Fanny said. Archie, do not just sit there! _Do_ something!"

Her husband huffed and rose to his feet but the fellow across from us was already standing and moved swiftly across to the door which had just swung open to admit a waiter. He slipped through but was swiftly ejected, Jerzy emerging with him in a death-grip. The fellow struggled helplessly and was out of the dining-area in barely a minute. 

Jan appeared at our table.

"Sorry about that sirs, madam", he said. "That person was paying undue attention to one of our staff members and he has been shown the door. Jerzy will make sure he does not come back again."

Lady Maberley smiled, then frowned.

"Wait a minute", she said. "Jerzy – was that not the name of the foreigner that Mortimer wanted to move in with?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"You must be Mortimer's mother", he said. "Yes, Jerzy and I needed someone to be able to afford a new house. We were hoping that he might suit, especially as he is so quiet and well-mannered."

"Yes, he was well-raised", she smiled. "Well, perhaps it might be acceptable considering that you clearly have his best interests at heart."

Her husband spluttered and seemed set to say something but she just Looked at him. He subsided but still looked annoyed.

"Suppose so", he muttered.

"Then that is settled!" his wife said firmly.

֍

Of course it was not quite settled. Dinner was wonderful and my opinion of the place improved considerably (and not, as 'someone' later snarked, only when Jan told me that they did pie every Tuesday). Lady Maberley was particularly pleased with the trifle which she deemed excellent.

“This is absolutely _delicious!_ ” she said. “We _must_ come here more often!”

Her husband looked horrified. I could understand why; military pensions were not renowned for being that generous.

“Perhaps we might speak to the chef and offer our compliments?” Sherlock said calling over Jan. “I understand, madam, that for a few _valued_ customers, establishments like this one are known to provide recipes or even the occasional loan of their staff.”

“That would be wonderful”, she sighed. “And he can bring seconds while he is at it.”

Sure enough, some little time later a short fellow in a cook's uniform walked smartly up to our table – and went deathly pale.

_“Mor-ti-mer!”_

That was the colonel. Fortunately his lady wife had a mouthful of trifle at the time which she finished before looking sharply at what was very obviously her son. The one staring at the floor in the obvious and fervent wish that it would open up and swallow him whole. Preferably in the next five seconds.

“Hmm”, Lady Maberley said at last. “You always did enjoy playing in the kitchen as a boy, I remember. And this trifle is _most_ delicious.”

“My son a cook!” her husband spluttered. "You actually.... _work_ here?"

"Mortimer wishes to go full-time", Jerzy said, "and the hotel management have said they would welcome him with open arms as he is so talented."

“This is an _outrage!"_ the colonel snorted. "I will not countenance such a disgrace to the family name!”

His wife slowly put down her spoon then turned to give her husband what was mist definitely another Look. The sort of Look that should have been prohibited under one of those international weapons treaties; I could swear that the whole place went silent under it. The colonel gulped and sank back down from his half-raised position.

“Hmm”, Lady Maberley said again. “ _Most_ delicious. Well, if you can find time to come home and cook for us now and again, that would be appreciated. Would it not, _dear?”_

She was still giving 'dear' the sort of Look that clearly implied while there might be two possible answers to her question, only one of them was really advisable considering who he slept with of an evening. The colonel looked as if he was considering another scowl then sighed.

“I suppose so”, he conceded. “Those roast potatoes were rather good.”

“Yes”, Sherlock smiled. “And I understand from his colleagues that from time to time Mr. Maberley here serves up a most delicious meal involving meat and vegetables.”

The bastard! Jan and Jerzy both went bright red and the poor young cook looked even more mortified than before, but fortunately neither of his parents managed to get the _innuendo_ and he was allowed to retreat to the kitchen where doubtless he poured himself and his soon to be room-mates a strong drink. Or three.

֍


End file.
